From Angels to Demons
by L Moonshade
Summary: MacLeod and Methos receive an unusual visitor.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Highlander or any of the characters, I'm just borrowing them for a while. I'll return them relatively unharmed, I promise.

A/N: This is a shameless self-insert, but hopefully with a bit of a difference. I've tried my best to keep it from being a Mary Sue. The premise comes from a (very) old challenge on Seventh Dimension.

A/N 2: Thanks to Raynbowz for the encouragement and advice. Thanks also to pinktink79 for the beta and the help in keeping Kate from being a Mary-Sue.

* * *

She literally appeared out of nowhere. One minute MacLeod and I were talking, the next there was a sound more felt than heard and she was lying on the floor of the barge. He and I had reacted out of instinct, jumping up and grabbing our swords, but she didn't seem to notice them, instead looking at us with recognition.

It took her a minute to find her voice. "Duncan MacLeod?" she finally asked.

We shared a confused look. "Yes," he said carefully.

She glanced at me with the same expression. "Methos?"

I tightened my grip, not pleased that she knew who I was, and nodded.

She let her head fall back onto the floor. "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto," she groaned.

By the time MacLeod helped her up and got her over to the couch she was shivering violently; while he put a throw over her shoulders, I made some tea and laced it with brandy.

She took it gratefully and sipped at it. "Thank you. I suppose you'd like some answers."

"That would be nice," I growled.

MacLeod glared at me. "Let's start with your name."

"Katie. Well, Katelyn, but... As for answers, I have no idea how to explain what just happened to me," she said, speaking more to her tea than to us. "I was visiting my grandparents' grave when I saw a new statue, an angel with its face in its hands. I saw something like it on a TV show, where they were a race of aliens that could only move when no one was watching… I know it sounds silly, but it was Doctor Who, what do you want?"

In spite of my annoyance and disbelief, I couldn't help but be amused. "Camp on Doctor Who. Quelle suprise."

She smiled weakly, but it didn't last long. "On the show, if they touched you they sent you back in time, something about feeding off the power of the future that could have been or something. I don't really remember the technobabble."

She couldn't be serious. "And you thought…"

"That I was crazy, the first time I looked back up and it seemed like it had moved, so I closed my eyes, just to prove to myself that I was paranoid." She laughed harshly. "I wasn't paranoid. When I looked again, the thing was just about on top of me. I backed away and probably would have made it, if I hadn't sneezed. Before I opened my eyes again, I felt a cold touch then my world exploded. And, when it fell back together, I was here."

I had to admit, she spun a good tale. "That's a great story, but it doesn't explain how you know our names."

"Another TV show. About Immortals."

I stared at her, stunned, then started pacing the barge, still not pleased that she knew who I was and unsure if I could believe her. Granted, I've seen some strange things in my life, but this? "Impossible."

"Yes, because it's so much stranger than a five thousand-year-old man," she said dryly.

MacLeod grinned. "She's got a point, Old Man."

I glared at him. "You shut up. You can't possibly believe… A TV show?"

"What year is it?" she asked.

"1997," MacLeod said. "Why?"

"I'm trying to think of something no one else would know to convince him."

I shook my head. "That wouldn't prove where you're from. There are other ways of knowing."

"True."

"Well, there's no doubt that you came out of nowhere," MacLeod said gently. "Which begs the question, what do we do with you?"

I shook my head. "Don't look at me. I'm not the one that takes in strays."

"Well, I've got the sofa here and…" he trailed off realizing that, wherever she was, it wasn't with us. "Katie?"

"This is real, isn't it?" she asked in a small voice, turning from the window. "You two really are Immortal?"

She looked so forlorn and lost, so vulnerable, that my doubt vanished. I felt a swell of sympathy, knowing all too well what it was like to be ripped from the place you belonged, to be taken to a place you'd only heard of. I wished I could get her back, but all I could do was help her accept what had happened so, without a word, I went to the kitchen for a knife then brought it back and sat next to her. Even though she didn't want to see it, she didn't look away as I sliced my hand open, as my Quickening sparked like lightning, stitching the wound together. She looked at it for a moment, carefully set down the tea and nearly ran up onto the deck.

"Katie…"

I put a hand on MacLeod's arm to stop him from going after her. "She didn't live in a vacuum, MacLeod; she just realized she's never going to see her friends and family again. Let's give her a minute or two."

"Yeah," he sighed. "As I was saying, I have a sofa and I'm sure Joe or Richie would put her up if we explained the situation to them." He considered that for a moment. "As much as we can, anyhow."

"I've got room, too."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Look, why don't we let her decide? She's bound to feel more comfortable with one of us over the others and it might make it a little easier for her."

"Who are you and what have you done with Methos?"

I glared at him. "I've been a slave before…"

"She's not…"

"Let me finish. No, not a slave, but she's been taken from her family, brought a place she doesn't know, where her fate's going to be decided by others. Not so different from what I've gone through."

"Okay." He went and dug out a coat. "One of Richie's," he said, handing it to me. "She'll be freezing when you get up there."

"Hey! Who said I was going?"

He smirked. "You did, when you sliced your hand open for her."

I heaved a sigh. "I hate it when you're right."

After a few minutes I did go on deck, where I found Kate—I somehow couldn't think of her as Katie—sitting bent over, a wallet in her hands. I draped the coat over her shoulders—April in Paris was cold—then crouched and gently took the wallet, cursing silently when I saw the picture of a teenage girl who was a younger image of Kate.

"She's beautiful," I told her gently.

"She just turned 16. Her father was going to be teaching her how to drive…"

"Kate, I'm so, so sorry."

"You know, you watch the show and talk about it with your friends. What would it be like, wouldn't it be cool to meet, what would you ask them?"

"And now that you're here, you'd give anything to go back." I sat next to her, drew her into my arms and let her cry until she was finished. After a moment, I pulled back.

"Better?"

"A little, thank you," she said, slipping her arms into the sleeves of the coat.

"We're not going to leave you stranded. MacLeod's got a sofa here, but we could easily talk Joe or the Ryan kid into taking you in, or you can stay with me. Wherever you'd feel most comfortable."

"With you, then."

"What do you have with you?"

"The clothes on my back. My cell phone." She gave a harsh bark of laughter. "Keys to the car and house. My wallet and ID, some cash, credit cards. Checkbook."

"We'll stop and do some shopping on the way home, then." I stood up as MacLeod joined us. "She's going to stay with me."

MacLeod drew me aside. "Do you need anything?"

"No, now that the Watchers know who I am, I don't have to keep playing penniless Adam Pierson. Thanks for asking, though."

He nodded, following me back over to Kate. "We'll make sure you're all right," he told her.

She offered a weak but sincere smile. "Thank you."

We wound up shopping for a couple of hours. She was quiet for the most part, though I didn't blame her. Despite what I'd told MacLeod, I couldn't know exactly what it was like for her; I'd never been taken to a place I knew was fictional. I was able to draw her out a bit, however, and found an intelligent woman with a quick wit.

"I was just thinking, do you know where I can relearn French?" she asked as we carried the bags to my apartment. "I haven't used it in almost twenty years."

It was a question I was happy to hear, one that meant she wasn't giving up. "I can teach you." I thought about that for a moment. "Though, classes might be better. Let you meet someone else." I glanced at her, picking up immediately what she thought of that. "I'll teach you."

She looked relieved. "Thank you. I'm not always good with groups, especially when I don't know anyone, and even more when I'm stressed."

"A little social anxiety? Or is it worse than that?"

"Depression."

Good lord, how much was the universe going to put on this poor girl? "Anything else?"

"Rheumatoid arthritis."

That answered that. "Do you know what you're taking and how much?"

"I keep a list with me, both in my wallet and on my cell."

I nodded. "Good, give me the list and I'll take care of it. Can you wait until tomorrow?"

"Yeah, that shouldn't be a problem."

"All right." I unlocked the door. "Mi casa es su casa. I know it's kind of cramped, but I wasn't expecting company."

"I'll try not to outstay my welcome."

Shit, now I felt like a first class heel. "That wasn't what I meant," I told her gently. "You're welcome to stay for as long as you can stand me."

She let out a weak laugh. "Thank you. I'm saying that a lot. I'll pay you back…"

"Don't worry about it. Okay, we've fed you and gotten you clothes and necessities, what's next? Sleep, shower, bath…"

"A bath sounds wonderful."

"Go ahead. The apartment's small but the tub's not, which is why I took the place."

"I like the way you think," she chuckled, digging into a bag for the sweats she'd gotten.

"I keep candles in there, too; feel free to light them."

Kate stopped dead and turned back to look at me. "Candles?"

"Something wrong with that?"

"I'm just trying to picture you and candles and a long soak..."

"And?"

"And maybe I'd better take a cold shower," she muttered, disappearing into the bathroom.

I chuckled as I settled on the floor in front of the dresser. My good humor didn't last long, though, as I thought about how much Kate had going against her. I sighed, wondering how best to help her, and started reorganizing.

I'd cleared out two drawers and was debating the merits of going out to dinner versus ordering in when she came out. "Better?" I asked.

"A little. Where should I put my clothes?"

"The hamper's in the little closet there, opposite the bathroom. Chinese or pizza for dinner?"

"Oh, Chinese, definitely." She seemed amused by my pout. "Something wrong?"

"The pizza place has Buffalo Wings."

Kate piled the bags on the bed. "No they don't. Scissors?"

"Top drawer of the desk, there. And they do too, it says so on the menu."

She picked up said menu and pulled a face. "Baked with ranch dressing? Carrots?" She threw the paper down with a snort and grabbed the scissors. "Well, I feel privileged."

"Why's that?"

She settled on the bed and started cutting off tags. "I get to teach a five thousand-year-old man something new."

"Cheeky." But it was good to hear her bantering. "You think so, do you?"

"I do."

"Then elucidate, o my teacher."

She rolled her eyes. "Primus, Buffalo Wings are deep fried. Secundus, it's bleu cheese dressing with celery. And, tertius, only places within a three hour drive of Buffalo, New York seem to know how to make them properly."

I laughed. "Let me guess, you're from Buffalo."

"Guilty as charged."

"All right, then, Chinese it is. And tomorrow, I am finding a fryer if I have to search all of Paris."

"Good thing I know how to make them."

I cocked my head, watching her a moment, then brought up something that had been on my mind for a while, now. "So, exactly how much do you know about us, anyway?"

Her hands stilled and I could see her trying to decide how to answer. "I _think_ I know quite a bit and, so far, I haven't learned anything that contradicts it." She hesitated again then looked up at me. "I know about the Horsemen, what happened in Bordeaux."

Oh, God, now she would… I pulled up short at that. She would what? After all, she'd known before she'd asked to stay with me. "I don't understand. If you know, why are you here?"

"I don't know what led up to it, what brought you to that point, or what your life was like, so I refuse to judge. What I do know is that you're not the same man you were."

That was all. No recrimination or forgiveness, no condemnation or absolution, just acceptance. It was more than enough and more than I could have expected. "Now it's my turn to say thank you."

She nodded. "Besides, as good a man as he is, MacLeod is far too broody. I can angst very well on my own, thanks, I don't need help."

I laughed. "Well, you certainly know him, at least. It's not fair, though. I know almost nothing about you."

"Ask away."

"Let's see, name I know. Hair color…"

"Just say blond, everyone else does."

It was a bland color, somewhere between blond and brown. "I think I like brown, better. Eye color… Call it blue, but I'm guessing they vary slightly. Age?"

"Thirty-six."

She looked a bit younger, but with a 16-year-old I'd expected five years older, at least. "Not what I expected. Job?"

"Clerk at a bookstore. I really just took it for the employee discount."

I grinned. "You like to read."

"And my daughter. We can't buy books fast enough for her."

"What do you like?"

"Whatever piques our interest. We tend to prefer fantasy, horror and some sci-fi, but we'll read anything. Same with movies."

"She doesn't like romance?"

Kate wrinkled her nose. "Not usually. Neither of us do."

"No chick flicks. Duly noted," I said, getting a chuckle out of her. "TV shows?"

"Let's see, the X-Files is still on, so is Strange Luck. Or, they are in the States. Brisco County Jr. isn't. Law and Order, MASH… I can't remember what else we watched."

"You don't watch TV anymore?"

"Some, but the Angels send people back in time. 1997 is 12 years ago for me."

I did the math. "2009, then."

"Yep." She reached into the last bag and pulled out a plush otter. I'd seen it when she'd bought it, of course, but she hadn't explained and I hadn't asked.

Katie smiled wryly when she saw me watching. "Security blanket. Pretty silly, I know."

"Not under the circumstances. What's her name?"

"His name is Thomas, but you're not going to get it. The books haven't been written, yet."

This should be good. "Explain, then, the joke behind Thomas the Otter."

She shook her head. "It's the Otter Thomas. In my when, Dean Koontz has written four books about a young man named Odd Thomas."

So I'd been wrong, it wasn't good, at all. "That's terrible."

She scoffed. "Of course it is. Five thousand years, have you ever heard a good pun?"

"Okay, you have a point. I gave you the top two drawers and you can have the bed."

"Methos, no. I'm not going to chase you out…"

"I've slept on worse as you well know, my knees won't stiffen up if I sleep with them bent all night and, even if they do, they won't stay that way for long. Do I need to give you any more reasons?"

She held up her hands. "I know better than to argue too hard with a man who's had thousands of years to practice being stubborn."

"Wise girl. I'm going to have to go pick up our order, do you want to come with?"

"No. I want to get my things put away and, in any case, I'd rather wallow in my misery."

"Don't wallow too long or too deep." I handed her the menu and jotted down a number. "If you need to, call MacLeod. You're not getting off so easy tomorrow night, though. Let me know when you're ready."

"Ready. Orange beef, steamed rice and steamed dumplings. What's tomorrow night?"

"A friend of Joe's is playing at Maurice's club. What do you want to drink?"

"Water's fine," she said slowly.

I glanced up to find an odd look on her face. "What?"

"I was just thinking about… The show went until 1998…"

Yet one more concern to pile on the poor girl. I sat next to her and took her hand. "Forget it for now. Forget it, forget paying me back or helping with the rent or finding a job. Hell, if you want to, forget about learning French. The only thing you need to worry about right now is coming to terms with what's happened, getting settled and getting to a place where you're all right. We'll worry about the rest as it comes."

"We, huh?"

I gave her hand a squeeze. "Yes, we. I may not be the Boy Scout MacLeod is, but I offered to help and help I will. So, I'll order food, run down and get it and then, after dinner, you're going to tell me about your family. You'll cry and blubber and go through boxes and boxes of Kleenex and you'll probably be completely embarrassed. And I'm going to hold your hand and laugh in all the right places and say 'there, there.' Then I'll promise not to tell a soul what a big baby you really are and put you to bed when you've cried yourself to sleep."

She smiled, which was the reaction I'd expected and hoped for. What surprised me was how much I wanted it to happen that way.

"Is there anything else you need while I'm out?" I asked, going to the phone.

"That depends on whether you drink coffee or tea."

"Coffee. I've got cream and sugar, too."

"Then I'm good."

I made the call then slipped into my coat. "Figure twenty minutes to half an hour."

"I'll be okay."

"You can just leave the phone if it rings, the machine can pick it up."

When I got back to the apartment it smelled wonderful; something chocolate was in the oven. Kate looked up with a nervous smile.

"I raided your kitchen. I firmly believe in the power of comfort food."

"So do I and if that tastes half as good as it smells you'll be forgiven. Brownies?"

"A modified recipe for almond bars. I would have made those instead, but you didn't have any almond extract."

I started pulling food out of the bags. "That's all right, I prefer chocolate. To most anything, really."

"You, a chocoholic? Another surprise."

I grinned. "I'm full of those."

Kate took a toothpick and checked the brownies. "I'd be horribly disappointed if you weren't."

I leaned over the pan as she set it on the counter to cool and took a deep breath. "God, they smell even better out of the oven."

"So sit and eat," she teased, shooing me away. "You don't get any until you've eaten all your veggies."

"Damn and no dog to feed them to. All right then, more vital stats. Hobbies?"

She joined me at the table and started dishing out food. "The SCA. That's…"

"Society for Creative Anachronism." A medieval recreation group; I'd been to some of their events. "I've had friends try to get me involved. I'd almost like to—Adam would enjoy it and I'd probably be able to win Crown Tourney any time I wanted—but it's not a good idea."

"No, because your ego would force you to win…"

"Hey!"

She grinned but kept right on going with, "You'd make a huge name for yourself and, with as close knit a group as the Society is, you'd be found out within fifteen years. You did get chopsticks, right?"

I cast a withering glare—leaving her to figure out which remark it was for—and went to the drawer where I kept them. "I'm not sure it would take that long. What else?"

"What? Oh, hobbies, right. D&D…"

"Really? I'm not the only one with surprises. I haven't met many women who play."

"There are a few more down the road. I'm not the only one in the group like I was in High School, anyway. I write, but I've never finished anything, much less published."

"What do you write?" I asked, reaching for one of the dumplings.

"Hey yourself!" she said, smacking my hand with a chopstick. "Get your own."

I gave her my best puppy eyes. "Come on, how can you resist this face?"

"Easily."

I heaved a sigh. "I know. It's the nose."

She laughed. "Yes, it's the nose, it is absolutely the nose, but that's not the reason I can resist. Go on, then, take one."

I did. "Why can you resist, then?"

"I'm a mother."

Couldn't argue with that. "Good point." I munched thoughtfully as something occurred to me. "We must look like the actors. I was just thinking that you knew who we were."

"You do." She got up and went to the nightstand to grab something then brought it over to me. Whatever it was it was tiny, smaller than my hand.

"What's this?"

"My cell phone."

I looked at it, amazed. Not only was it small, but there was no antenna. "What a difference a few years make. I wondered what you meant when you said you had that list on your phone."

"It has a way to take notes, a contact list, games, a calendar and alarm. You can make your own ringtones and wallpaper, take pictures and connect to the internet. Well, probably not for a few years, but…" she broke off with a shrug.

"That's incredible. Technology amazes me, it changes so fast. Well? What do I do with it?"

"Open it. The front flips up."

I did, wondering how my big fingers would be able to manage the small buttons. Then I looked at the display. He looked far less care worn than the face I saw in the mirror every day, but that was the only difference I could see.

"It's a bit creepy."

I glanced up at her. "You're telling me?" I took another look at the picture and hid a smile. "Hmm. Am I really that photogenic?"

"Uh, yes," she said as if I should have known it all along.

I handed the phone back, not bothering to hide this smile. "I guess I don't have to ask who your favorite character is."

She fiddled with the thing and studiously avoided my eyes, her cheeks coloring slightly. "Well, it was Joe until you came along," she said, handing it back to me.

Again, there was little difference between the picture and the person I knew. "Yeah, but does he play Blues?"

"And sings. He also lost his legs in an accident."

"Joe lost his in Vietnam," I said quietly, handing the phone to her again. "But, you know that. That is quite disturbing."

"Very."

"What have they been in?"

"Let me try to remember what's come out. Peter, that's you, would be in… Mostly British TV that I've never seen, being a Yank. Jim was in Wiseguy, he played Lifeguard."

I shook my head. "No, Don loved that show. He would have said something if anyone had looked that much like Joe."

"That's probably for the best. I don't think the world needs two of either one of you."

"Cheeky." Then something she'd said earlier registered. "Wait, what do you mean, until I came along?"

She tried to look contrite and failed miserably. "Oh, did I fail to mention? The show was called Highlander."

"MacLeod? They centered a show around MacLeod?"

"You came along in the third season."

I shook my head. "Now I'm depressed. I'm far more interesting."

"Better looking, too. It gets worse."

I wasn't sure I wanted to know. Much as I try to deny it, I do have an ego and it had just taken a hit. "Go ahead," I sighed.

"The spin-off was about Amanda."

"Amanda? Not that I don't like the little minx, but… Amanda?"

She nodded agreement. "I know. If it's any consolation, it only lasted one season."

"It's not, now I'm really depressed. I think it's time for brownies."

She laughed. "You really are a big kid, aren't you?"

"You have to keep playing or you'll go mad. Believe me, I know. Your turn."

"Huh?"

"For questions. I won't promise I'll answer them, of course…"

"Ah." She thought for a moment as we started clearing away dinner. "What's it like? To have seen so much change?"

"Wearying beyond belief, sometimes. Amazing, wonderful, terrifying. Sometimes I look back and wonder how I managed to survive."

"Have you ever figured it out?"

I nodded. "It started with one more day. That's all I've ever asked for, just one more day."

"That's a hell of a lot of days; I can't even get my mind around it."

"Sometimes, neither can I. Especially when I try to remember what it was like to be mortal and can't." The admission surprised me. I hadn't told anyone because I didn't want sympathy or worse, pity, but I had the feeling that she would understand. It was what it was.

She did understand. When she asked, "You don't remember being mortal? Your first death?" curiosity was all I heard.

"No, I don't remember much before I took my first head. C'mon, cut the brownies, already."

Kate shook her head, chuckling. "Yoda."

"Huh?"

"You make me think of Yoda," she chuckled as she cut two pieces. "You do have Star Wars in this reality, right?"

"Yes, we have Star Wars. How do I remind you of Yoda?"

"All serious and wise one minute, playful the next."

I grinned. "Can't be too predictable. We can take this over to the sofa."

"Before you've even tried it?"

I rolled my eyes. "Fine," I said and took a bite.

"And the verdict is?"

I put my plate down and cut another, larger piece. "You just earned your keep for the next year. These are amazing."

"Better with ice cream."

"I'll pick up some while I'm looking for the fryer."

She grinned. "Good man."

We settled on the sofa, Kate's smile falling. "I've been married half my life, Methos. I don't know if I can do it any other way."

"You'll learn," I said gently. "I give you fair warning, I'm not going to let you give up."

She gave a little smile. "Thank you."

"How did you meet him? Your husband?"

"In High School, our freshman year."

It started out as a monologue but quickly became a conversation as I started asking questions and countering her stories with my own. We talked for a couple of hours, Kate getting closer and closer to tears. When she finally couldn't hold them back any more she let me hold her while she cried, deep, wracking sobs, as if her soul were being ripped apart. In a way, I supposed it was. Eventually, she cried herself to sleep.

I put her to bed, sliding the Otter Thomas under the covers for her, and stood there for a moment while she settled down and shifted into a comfortable position. There was promise there, I thought as I brushed a lock of hair out of her face. She weighed a bit too much and her hair was too straight, but with the right clothes she'd look nice. I shook my head and stretched out on the couch as best I could. Like I'd told MacLeod, I wasn't one to help people I didn't know, but I felt protective of her and wanted her to be okay.

"I spend years losing my conscience only for MacLeod to go and find it again," I grumbled. My heart wasn't really in the complaint, though.


	2. Chapter 2

I woke earlier than I'd wanted to, but at least what woke me up was the smell of food. I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep but my stomach had other ideas, so I grabbed a cup of coffee, pleased to find that Kate had made enough of everything for two. She didn't say a word as I piled up my plate and we ate in silence.

Once we were done, I leaned back with a sigh. "Delicious, thank you. And, you just proved yourself to be the perfect roommate."

"Oh?"

"You didn't say a word."

She smiled, but it seemed forced. "I know I'm pretty worthless before my first cup."

I reached over and took her hand. I didn't say anything—God knows I didn't have the words for this—but the grateful look I got told me it was enough.

We did little that day. I went out long enough to get her the medicine she needed—with forged prescriptions, not too difficult—but spent the rest of the day in. She was feeling a bit more talkative and even though we'd each grabbed a book we didn't read much, spending the day in conversation until it was time to get ready. I grabbed my shower first, coming out to find Kate on the phone.

"It's MacLeod," she told me.

"Thanks," I said, taking the phone. "MacLeod."

"I called to find out how Katie's doing. She sounds a little better."

"I think so. I hope so."

"I also thought we should get our story straight. I told Richie you were helping out a friend of yours."

"Good enough." I glanced over at Kate, who was looking for something to wear. "It's become the truth."

"Mmhm. You're getting caught up, aren't you?"

"She's fun to be around. Besides, it works a lot better if your roommate is a friend."

MacLeod snorted but didn't challenge me. "Are you bringing her tonight?"

"She doesn't need to be alone."

"Good, I'm looking forward to getting to know her." Yeah, he said that now. Wait until he learned that she enjoyed Highlander-baiting as much as I did. "I've got to get ready. I'll see you later."

"Later."

"I'll try not to take too long," Kate said, heading for the bathroom. "Wouldn't want to be late."

"If we are, I'll just take it out of your hide."

She stopped and I thought I'd gone too far until she said, "That could be fun." Then she disappeared into the bathroom, leaving me to wonder if she was joking. I hoped so, or I could be in trouble.

I picked up a bit while she was in the shower, just for something to do. Half an hour later she came out asking, "How'd I do?"

"Plenty of…" I trailed off as I looked up. She had her hair pulled back and was wearing a low-cut sweater that she filled out nicely, meeting the promise I'd seen the night before.

"What's wrong?"

Apparently I'd been staring. "Nothing, you weren't dressed to impress yesterday, that's all. I didn't realize how lovely you are."

Her cheeks colored. "Oh. I…"

"Need to smile and say thank you and accept the compliment."

She did smile. "You're right. Thank you."

"Of course I'm right. I'm very old and wise."

She scoffed. "And here I thought you were just a guy."

I grinned. "You were paying attention. As I was saying, we've got plenty of time."

MacLeod was just arriving when we got there and we met him at the door. His eyes widened slightly when he saw Kate, but he recovered quickly and gave her a warm smile and a peck on the cheek.

"It's good to see you. You look nice."

"Thank you. I don't know how I'll do, but I'll give it a shot."

"I told her I wasn't going to let her say home and brood," I said, putting a hand on the small of her back. "Unlike some, _she_ knows better than to argue."

"No, I just know enough to choose my battles carefully," Kate said, giving me a mischievous smile.

I rolled my eyes but smiled, pleased that she was letting it go, at least for a little while. I was also pleased that she didn't shrug me off.

Joe was at a table up front, watching the door. He smiled when he saw us, standing when he noticed Kate.

"Hey, guys. Who's this?"

"This is a friend of Adam's, Katelyn. Katie, Joe."

"I can introduce myself, MacLeod, thanks. It's a pleasure to meet you, Joe."

Joe grinned, taking the hand she offered. "Pleasure's all mine." He looked up as someone joined us. "Hey, Mike. This is the guy who'll be playing. Mike, Adam, Duncan and Katie."

The kid shook hands with us. "Nice to meet you. I can't stay long, I just wanted to thank you again, Joe."

"No problem. Go get ready."

Mike headed back stage and we sat and ordered. Once we'd gotten settled, Joe turned to Kate.

"So where are you from?"

"Buffalo."

"You've seen Niagara Falls, then? You're lucky, they're beautiful."

"They are," MacLeod said. "I keep meaning to get back there."

I shook my head. "Never been."

The three of them looked stunned. "Never?"

"Nope."

"You'll have to let me take you, some time," Kate told me.

I smiled. "I think I'd like that."

"So, what brings you to Paris?"

"Change of scenery. I've never been to Paris."

She was good, giving him just enough information to bring him to the conclusion she wanted him to reach.

"It's a nice place to visit, all right."

"Well, the scenery's gorgeous, that's for sure."

Her attention wasn't on Joe and we followed her gaze to a statuesque blond and her friend, an equally lovely red head.

"Oh, hot damn," Joe muttered. "Nice taste, Lady."

MacLeod blinked, surprised. "You can't be serious."

"Why not?" Joe asked. "They're stunning."

He scowled. "That's not what I meant."

"Like you never..."

MacLeod shook his head. "Nope."

Kate's eyebrows shot up. "Never? In your whole life, you've never experimented..."

"Not like that, no."

She shook her head. "You really are the poster boy for rampant heterosexuality, aren't you? Well, I've found that the world is a whole lot prettier and a hell of a lot more fun when you don't limit your choices."

I shook my head. "Tsk, tsk, kids and their morals. Why in my day…"

"Yeah, and which day was that, Dr. Adams?" she shot back. "Ancient Egypt or Greece?"

I wondered briefly where the Dr. Adams had come from, but didn't ask. "Didn't anyone teach you to respect your elders?"

Her answer was to stick her tongue out at me.

Joe glanced from me to Kate and back. "Wait a minute she knows? You know?"

"She knows," MacLeod sighed, taking a drink. "It's all right, though, I don't think we have to worry. Not if 'Adam' here trusts her."

"I'm letting her stay with me even though she knows how to kill us, aren't I?"

"Well, I can see why you like her," Joe chuckled. "You sure do have the old man's sense of humor."

The band came on then and we stopped talking to listen. Joe's friend was really quite good and we enjoyed it thoroughly.

"He's good. Where did you pick him up?" MacLeod asked.

"London. He came to every show, every night."

"No accounting for taste," I teased.

Joe rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. This is the first time he's been on stage, though. He was with us for two weeks, hauling amps for a bus ticket before we even found out he played."

Kate nodded. "He plays, alright."

"Never gets tight or nervous. Just lays it out."

MacLeod snorted. "Nervous? He's already forgotten anybody else is here." After a moment he turned to me. "Remember what that's like?"

"I never played guitar."

He sighed and shook his head. "That's not what I mean. To be so lost in what you're doing that there's no time, no space."

I took a sip of beer. "There's a greeting card in there somewhere." MacLeod glared at me and I relented. "I don't remember, but I wish I did."

It was nearly the end of the set when MacLeod and I felt it, the sensation that heralded another Immortal, and we glanced at the door just in time to see him walk in, all swagger and self-importance as always.

"Well, well, look who's here," I said, glancing at Kate. Now I knew where her "Dr. Adams" comment had come from; she'd known who was about to show up.

"Who's that?" MacLeod asked.

Joe was in awe. "Byron."

"So that's Lord Byron," MacLeod said dryly.

Byron had seen me as soon as he'd come in and now made his way over, smiling broadly. "Doc! It's been ages."

I grinned as we shook hands. "You've become famous again."

He gave a little laugh. "Yeah, I just can't seem to shake it."

I chuckled and turned to the others at the table. "My friends, Duncan MacLeod, Joe Dawson, Katelyn Brown."

He shook hands and I was dismayed—but not surprised—to sense an instant dislike between him and MacLeod. "Any friend of Doc's," Byron said carefully.

Duncan smiled tightly, but didn't say anything. Byron ignored that and turned his most charming smile on Kate, taking her hand and kissing it. "It is a pleasure, indeed."

"Likewise," she said, seeming more amused by than taken with him, much to my relief. The last thing she needed was to get tangled up with him. He could make things look better, but he could just as easily make them much, much worse.

Finally, he turned his attention to the stage. "Now that kid's not bad. Who is he?"

"Ah, that's Mike," I told him. "He's from London."

Byron went to sit at the table behind us, next to the wall. Kate excused herself to the ladies' room and Byron watched her go then turned to me.

"You always did have good taste. How long have you two been…?"

I choked on my drink. Damn it, did it really look that way? "We're not. I'm just helping her out of a rough patch, that's all."

He suddenly looked interested. "Really?"

"Don't even think about it."

Joe and MacLeod both frowned and I realized I'd been a bit more forceful than I'd meant to be. "Something wrong?" Joe asked.

"She just lost her husband and daughter. She's hurt and vulnerable and if you take advantage of her… I need a refill," I said, escaping to the bar. MacLeod was right, I thought, I was getting caught up. Not just because of her vulnerability, but because she'd accepted me in a way I'd never been. And, because I liked her.

I got back to the table just as Mike came over for a break. "You were great," I told him.

"Yeah, it's a rush."

"Beautiful, man."

Mike grinned. "Thanks, Joe."

Byron, of course, had to make himself known. "Great chops, kid."

Mike looked up and, recognizing him immediately, excused himself to head over to Byron's table. "You're who I think you are, aren't you? I've got every CD, imports, everything. Man, I've been a fan of yours forever."

Joe turned to me and glared. "You mean to tell me you knew him all this time and you never told me?"

MacLeod looked at me, amused. "Yeah, Doc."

I spent the rest of the night in my head, remembering that weekend with the Shelleys, almost the last time I'd seen Byron. He'd written a vampire story and Mary... Ah, yes, Mary had written something a bit more truthful. The others let me be, MacLeod and Joe likely figuring it was my usual reticence, but Kate glanced at me a couple of times. Did she know where I was? I thought it likely.

We stayed until the place closed, Mike walking out with us, still pumped.

"Listen, you wanna open for us tomorrow night?" Joe asked him. "It's okay with Maurice."

"Are you kidding? I'd do anything, whatever it takes."

MacLeod smiled. "I think you already did what it takes."

"Come on by in the morning, we'll run some tunes, see how it feels."

"Yeah, I'll be there."

Byron stepped out, a girl on each arm. "Hey, Mike, wanna come jam?"

"You're serious? Sure!"

Kate drew Mike aside and spoke to him in low tones. I didn't hear what she said, but it was obvious that he wasn't taking it very seriously.

"It's now or never, Mike," Byron prodded.

Kate frowned at him. "For someone who has all the time in the world, you sure are impatient."

Byron's face darkened and he left his groupies where they were to approach Kate. I moved closer, as much because I was curious to hear what she had to say as to make sure he didn't do anything rash.

"Hey, that's…"

"I know damn well who it is," she told Mike. "Better than you do."

The kid glanced at me and I jerked my head to the side, telling him to get lost; thankfully he took the advice and went to say good night to Joe. I didn't think Kate would say anything in front of him that would give Immortals away, but I also had the feeling she'd be happier telling Byron just what she thought.

"You have no idea who..."

"Oh, I am quite aware of who you are, your lordship." Byron's eyes widened; that shot had told. "And I'll thank you to remember that we poor mortals are but fragile things. It doesn't take as close a brush with death to frighten us or to make us feel alive and we can't survive the lifestyle to which you have become accustomed." She inclined her head as a bow—mostly mocking—then turned and headed for my car.

Byron started to follow, but I put a hand out and shook my head.

"No."

He glared at me. "No one talks to me like that," he snapped.

I hid a smile. "She just did," I said then turned and followed her.

Once we were in the car, I just looked at her for a moment, grinning.

"What?"

"You're a little tiger when you're annoyed." I shook my head and started the car. "I can't believe you just told off Byron."

She opened her mouth then closed it again. "Neither can I," she said. "I guess his attitude just pissed me off. Not that it'll change anything."

That last had been said so quietly that I thought it likely I hadn't been meant to hear. "What won't it change?"

She turned sharply then sighed. "Men like him weren't meant for Immortality. He's already dead, Methos, he has to be more and more destructive to feel alive. If he limited it to himself, it wouldn't matter…"

"But he never could understand that not everyone wants—or is able—to live the way he does. What happened to Mike on the show?"

"Overdose."

"Damn. What did you tell him?"

"To be careful. Maybe it'll be enough, but he wasn't very receptive."

"No, it didn't look like it. And Byron won't listen. You tried, that's all you can do, but you can't save everyone. Maybe you can't save anyone."

"Then, why am I here?"

She sounded dangerously close to tears and I suddenly understood her outburst. Of course she'd want to believe there was a reason she'd been taken from her family, even though there probably wasn't. I reached over and took her hand, trying to find something to say.

"I wish I had an answer," I finally told her. "I wish I had some way of making it easier for you."

She gave my hand a squeeze. "Don't think for a minute that you're not, Methos. You can't make it all better, but you've made it much, much easier than it could have been."

I smiled. "Good."

When we got home she went into the bathroom to change. I just stripped to my boxers and stretched out on the sofa, watching as she hesitated before getting into bed. I had a pretty good idea of what was wrong; it was always hard to sleep alone after years of having someone.

"Good night, Kate. Sleep well."

She sighed. "Hope so. Night, Methos."


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, I went down to the club alone to meet MacLeod and Joe. I invited Kate along, but she'd had enough of people for a while and opted to stay home. I was a little concerned, but she didn't seem to be too depressed, so I left after giving her the number.

Joe and the band had been rehearsing for a while before Mike came rushing in, causing them to trail off.

"You're late, brother," Joe said, trying not to snap.

"Sorry."

"You know, you don't want to do this, we don't have to."

"No, I'm ready, I'm ready," Mike said, talking far too quickly. "See? Look." He fumbled with his guitar and Joe waved a hand impatiently.

"Come on, tune it up, okay?" he said, exasperation creeping into his voice.

Mike played a little, but not well. MacLeod and I shared a glance and I felt a cold dread. I could believe all too well the ending Kate had seen.

Joe eyed Mike skeptically. "You with us?"

"Yeah."

"All right. Let's give it a whirl."

The band started up again, but Mike was sloppy and the easy, almost trance-like way he'd played the night before was nowhere in sight. Finally, Joe cut it off.

Mike glanced around at the band. "What?"

"Why don't you get a little sleep, okay, Mike? We'll try this later."

"Tough night?" MacLeod asked.

Mike glanced from him to Joe, jerky and nervous. "No. Um, yeah, yeah, it was hot. Byron thought I was great, I was flying."

MacLeod wasn't very gentle when he said, "Looks like you still are."

Joe sounded a little more tolerant. "He, uh, give you a little something to help you?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"Look, maybe this is none of my business . . ."

Mike didn't let him finish. "Maybe it isn't. You should have heard me. I've never been better."

"Getting high doesn't help your playing. You just think it does."

"You accusing me of something?"

Joe shook his head. "Nothing I haven't done myself," he said gently. "And paid for. Words of wisdom, take 'em or leave 'em."

Mike decided to leave them. "We're talking about Byron, here," he nearly shouted. "You should be happy for me, not bitching at me, all right?" He unplugged his guitar. "I'm out of here," he said, rushing off as quickly as he'd rushed in.

"Take five, guys," Joe said, joining MacLeod at the table. "Boy oh boy, I sure screwed that up."

"Well somebody did," MacLeod said, standing up. "I'm going to talk to Byron."

My head shot up; I hadn't expected a confrontation quite so quickly. "Wait, I'll go with you." MacLeod didn't seem to like that, but Joe gave me a grateful look. "I know you're worried about him."

Joe nodded. "He's in a tough spot."

"To make great music, you have to experience life."

"The good and the bad, huh?" Joe asked, shaking his head. "Hallelujah."

"Sometimes the man is not as strong as the music."

When we got to Byron's penthouse, he was berating someone; assistant, manager, I neither knew nor cared. "Life, my friend, is in the details," he shouted, jabbing with his cane for emphasis. "I like almonds, not cashews. Shelled, roasted, unsalted."

I was amused—some things never changed—but MacLeod frowned deeply.

Byron, noticing us, played up the moment. "Fed to me by women. Tall women, with long black hair. I know you want to make me happy."

Whoever it was scampered off and Byron relaxed, all calm and grace again, and turned to us. "Afternoon, boys."

I smirked and shook my head. "Still lacerating the help, I see."

"It's good to be the star."

"You and Mike had quite a session last night." Just like MacLeod to get straight to the point.

"Kid's got a good shot."

"That's why we're here."

And just like Byron to go for the drugs; he pulled out a packet of cocaine and offered it to us.

I shook my head. "Pass."

"Got to rev the motor or you're just idling." When we still didn't accept, he shrugged. "Don't know how you guys live without it."

"Just fine, thanks, and so did Mike. At least, until last night."

Byron partook with a deep sigh. "That's better. Immortality gets pretty damn dull after the first couple centuries, doesn't it?" He sniffed, wiped his nose and refocused on me. "What's the secret, Doc? What do you do when there's nothing left but the deep, cold emptiness that stretches for centuries behind us? When you look in the mirror and all you see is the abomination that you are?"

I didn't say anything. How could I, when I had no answer for him? One more day was enough for me, but it would never satisfy his hunger.

Byron went to a shelf and pulled a book off it; Frankenstein. He opened it to a page and started reading but I let it fade into the background. I had never read it, had never been able to bring myself to, knowing how it had come to be. Knowing the reality behind the illusion.

" '…Light, feeling, and sense will pass away; and in this condition must I find my happiness,'" he finished. "Frankenstein, gentlemen. Mary Shelley's greatest work."

MacLeod, predictably, was getting restless. "Get to the point."

"The point is we're all Frankenstein's monster, doomed to walk the frozen tundra for eternity. Or the streets of Paris, what's the difference?" He picked up the bag of cocaine and waved it at us. "At least this gives us the illusion of life."

"If that's your idea of life, you might as well be dead," MacLeod growled.

"So speaks the hero," Byron shot back with disdain.

MacLeod stepped up to face Byron. "I want you to listen to me. No poetry, no illusions, no lies. This is real and it's a warning; leave the kid alone."

Byron raised his hands in mock surrender. MacLeod spun on one heel and stalked out; I offered Byron a shrug and followed.

"Your friend is a mess," MacLeod said once we were outside.

Of course he was. "He's a genius."

"He's pathetic."

"It would be easy to think so. Do you remember what it's like to be so hungry it hurts?" When he nodded, I continued, "Byron feels like that all the time. Twenty thousand people screaming his name and it's not enough to fill that hole inside him. He's always wanting more, always _needing _more. Try it sometime."

"No thanks."

I sighed. " 'She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies…'"

" 'And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes.' I know the poem."

"Point is, how can you think like that, write like that, without being larger than life? Mozart. Van Gogh. Charlie Parker and the list goes on and on. Messed up guys, all of them."

"DaVinci. Bach. Nice, normal guys and great artists."

"C'mon, you can't deny that the world needs its Jim Morrisons, its Kurt Cobains and, yes, its Lord Byrons. He's given the world great poetry and he will again."

"Yeah? At what price?"

I had no answer. I didn't even know why I was defending him the way I was; death would be a kindness to him and would, maybe, save Mike's life. But I did respect Byron's genius and I didn't want to lose another student. And he had, at one time, meant so much to me.

Kate was reading when I got back; she took one look at my face and sighed. "It didn't go too well, did it?"

"No." I flung myself onto the sofa. "I don't know who's more stubborn, Byron or MacLeod."

"I don't think there really is a 'more' there. Hedonistic Immortal who's never had to change his lifestyle on the one hand, brooding Scot who sees himself as Clan Chieftain to the world on the other."

"Matter and anti-matter. I should do it now, before it's too late for Mike."

"If you did, would it be too late for you?"

I sighed. "Maybe, I don't know. Maybe it doesn't matter, as long as it saves the kid."

"Why does it mean so much to you?"

I hadn't thought about it, but the answer came out almost immediately. "Because it means so much to you."

There was a long moment of silence. "I was looking for a reason for my being here, that's all," she said softly. "If it really matters, I'd rather lose him than you."

"It does matter," I said, trying to pass off just how much it did. I wanted badly to be more than a plot device to her.

Something in my voice must have betrayed me because she came over and sat next to me. "Methos, this isn't just a show to me. When you cut your hand for me it was there in your eyes, for just an instant. That weariness, the weight of all that time, that was what convinced me where I was, more than seeing your Quickening." She reached out, hesitated, then ran the back of her hand along my cheek. "You're far more than just a character to me. You're a living, breathing person, one who's become a dear friend."

I took her hand and brought it to my lips. "And that matters even more. Thank you. What about you? Are you all right?"

She sighed. "No, I'm really not. But, I can see a time when I will be. That's enough for now."

"Good." I stood and pulled her to her feet. "Come on. We need to get some ice cream and a fryer."

Kate chuckled. "Sounds good."


	4. Chapter 4

I leaned against the counter as Kate put some of the blanched wings into the basket and dropped it into the hot oil. "I didn't realize this was an all-day affair."

"No, only half a day. Beef on weck, now _there's_ an all-day affair."

"What's beef on weck?"

She shook her head. "Oh, you poor, poor man," she said sadly. "Sliced roast beef on a kummelweck roll."

"Okay, I know what kummelweck is. Anything I can do to help?"

"Cut the celery? Thanks. Roast beef and horseradish on a kummelweck. Or, for those of us who hate salt and caraway seeds, on an onion roll. However, to get that we'll have to go to Buffalo."

A trip might not be that bad I thought, digging out the celery and a knife. "I'll take it under advisement. Favorite food?"

She shook her head, chuckling. "I can never decide. I love red meat and seafood and when it comes to mushrooms I may as well be a Hobbit…"

"Color?"

"Black."

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me. Holiday? No, wait, let me guess. Halloween."

"Got it in one," she laughed. "What about you?"

"What about me, what?"

She heaved a theatrical sigh. "Color?"

"Would you believe it's blue?" As one of the Horsemen, I'd dyed my skin with woad.

"Yes, actually, I would. I'm going to guess that you don't have a favorite holiday."

"How did you know?"

She paused to put her thoughts in order. "You've seen so many rituals and religions come and go that it all seems… Not pointless, exactly, but I don't think any of it has made enough of an impression for you to hang onto."

I was stunned. "That's exactly it," I said quietly. "I haven't met many mortals who understand; even those who aren't religious mark time by their society's holidays."

"I don't like holidays. It's the whole crowd thing and I'm less than fond of most of my family. Both the in-laws and my own."

"So why Halloween?"

"Two reasons. The biggest is the way it feels. I've always believed the superstitions that the Veil between worlds is so thin on that one day and I love the sensation that there's more to the world than what we see."

"And the other reason?"

She gave a wicked chuckle. "It's so much fun to scare the trick-r-treaters."

I laughed. "Maybe I'll take you to Seacouver for Halloween, then, so you can celebrate it properly."

"Me, right. Because you wouldn't help at all."

"I didn't say that." I grinned. "We'd piss off the Highlander no end."

"All the more reason."

"A girl after my own heart. He's not going to like you much, you know."

She shrugged. "He's a good man, but I get so frustrated with people who see the world in black and white, especially someone who's lived so long, someone who should know better. I know, I know," she said before I could respond. "He wouldn't be Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod if he didn't see things that way, but it's still annoying." She paused then shook her head. "No, that's not quite the reason. It's how judgmental he is."

"No more so of others than he is of himself."

"I don't know if that makes it better or worse. He can't seem to accept when he's made a mistake, or when something happens that he feels he should have been able to stop, even if it's out of his control. Well, that's what I know of him, at least. The show's portrayal was highly accurate, but it didn't show everything."

"No, but you've got him pegged. I agree, it's highly irritating, but it's also the reason I've hung around for so long. He makes people care. When he believes in you… I don't know how to explain it, other than to say that I was pretty much coasting through life before we met and had been for decades. He reminded me that, while living is dangerous, it's also better than merely surviving. I wouldn't have made that connection with Alexa without him. And I wouldn't have let you in."

She was quiet for a moment. "You make them sound equal in scope," she murmured.

"I do, don't I?" I said, just as quietly.

We sat down to eat about an hour later, my first few wings disappearing quickly.

"Okay, okay, you were right. The pizza place doesn't have Buffalo wings. You're going to spoil me with all this home cooking."

She laughed. "Fine, we'll order out tomorrow, will that make you feel better?"

"No," I pouted.

We'd just finished clearing up after dinner when the call came from Joe. I listened to what he had to say then put the phone down with a sigh.

"Mike never showed up, did he?"

"No. MacLeod went to look for him."

"Damn," she said softly. "Damn, damn, damn."

"You did what you could," I told her, but I was dismayed. Byron was a good fighter—deceptively so, given his limp—but he was tired of life and, against MacLeod, he just couldn't win. I could go to him, tell him to leave before MacLeod found him, but what would that accomplish? Byron wouldn't run and MacLeod wouldn't let him be. "I'm going to go down to the club, see how Joe's doing."

"I'll go with you."

"You don't have to."

She nodded. "I know. I'll go with you."

Joe was alone when we got there, playing a sad, mournful tune. He looked surprised to see us, but offered a weak, if sincere, smile.

"Hey, guys. What're you doing here?"

"Making sure you're all right."

He shrugged. "I will be, I guess. MacLeod found Mike at Byron's suite. Dead."

"Shit. Joe…"

"Don't say it, buddy," he said, not unkindly, "I know. How about you, Katie? How are you?"

"Bout the same. I'm not all right, but I know I will be."

Joe nodded. "Sometimes, that's all you can ask for."

We talked in fits and starts for a couple of hours, until I sensed another Immortal. I went behind the bar and grabbed a Scotch and a couple of glasses; I was expecting MacLeod, but whoever it was would need a drink. I tried not to glare at him when he came in, but by the pained expression on his face I guess I did.

I tried to relent. "Matter and antimatter," I said gently. "Byron knew that, too." I sighed, trying to keep the tears out of my voice. "His life had become one long tragedy."

"Yeah, and we all know how those end," Joe sighed.

MacLeod, turning to him, caught sight of Kate sitting at the bar and frowned deeply.

She smiled grimly. "The answer is yes. Oh, yes."

I wondered if she'd deliberately used the same words I had when I'd told MacLeod about the madness and evil in my life. By the way his frown deepened, it hadn't escaped him, either.

"You could have…"

"Could have what?" I asked coldly. Perhaps I deserved part of the blame for what happened, but there was no way Kate did.

"I did what I could, so don't go trying to lay it at my door. I've got enough on my plate without trying to shoulder your Scottish guilt."

He sighed. "You're right, Katie. I'm sorry."

"So, is someone going to explain just what the hell that was all about?"

She glanced at me and I shrugged.

"It's up to you. You know I'll vouch for you."

"We'll vouch," MacLeod said.

She gave him a smile, accepting that as the peace offering it was, then turned to Joe. "Let me tell you how I wound up in Paris," she said then dove in. She told Joe pretty much what she'd told us and in pretty much the same way, though she wasn't in shock this time and the tears were closer to the surface.

When she finished, Joe laughed. "All right, you got me." His smile fell when he saw that we weren't laughing. "You can't be serious."

"I swear, Joe, MacLeod and I were sitting there talking when she appeared out of thin air."

MacLeod nodded. "She's telling the truth. Well, about appearing here, at least."

"About traveling back in time, too. Show him your phone."

She dug it out of her pocket and tossed it to Joe. He caught it with pretty much the same reaction I'd had.

"What the hell is this?"

"My cell phone. The front flips open; take a look."

He did and nearly dropped it. "The hell...?"

"That is Jim Byrnes, actor and Blues musician. He's the one who played you."

"Yeah, that's obvious. I assume you've seen this, Methos? What about you, Mac?"

"No."

Joe tossed the phone to MacLeod, who examined it then shook his head. "Well, if I'd had any doubt, this erases it. Not the picture so much as the phone. Proof enough that you've come back in time and if we accept that, we have to accept the rest. He plays the Blues, you said?"

Kate nodded, catching the phone as MacLeod tossed it back. "Like I was telling Methos, he lost his legs in an accident."

"Okay, now you're creeping me out, Lady. What about the guy who played MacLeod?"

"The folks who played Immortals look just as good—judging by the three I've seen, at least—except for one thing; they look too young. The eyes, especially, but there's something about the real deal... I can't show you a picture of MacLeod, though I don't have one. Sorry."

Joe grinned. "What, I'm your favorite character, or something?"

"Until the third season, yeah."

"Let me guess," MacLeod chuckled. "That was when Methos was introduced."

"Bingo. Strange how the main character never was my favorite."

"Who was the main character?"

"MacLeod," I grumbled.

There was a moment of quiet then MacLeod threw his head back and laughed. "I'd be insulted if I'd expected anything different. Now I know why you wanted to stay with Methos."

"Oil and water, MacLeod. Staying with you would be too much like the Odd Couple, only with sharp, pointy implements of destruction."

"At least you're keeping your sense of humor," Joe laughed. Then, sobering, "You tried talking to Mike, didn't you?"

"Yeah," she said. "I wasn't about to stand there and do nothing."

"Well, thanks for that." He cracked a yawn. "I don't know about you three, but I'm beat."

"Yeah, it's past my bedtime," Kate said. "Are you ready, Methos?"

"Very, it's been a long few days. Good night, folks."

Again, Kate and I got ready for bed as soon as we got home. This time, though, I was the one having trouble. Kate paused when she came out of the bathroom, looking at me.

"Are you all right?"

Of course I was. It didn't matter that I'd lost two students in six months—taking one of them myself—didn't matter that they were the last two, that they were the only ones I'd truly cared for, or that one of them had been my lover. Kate had enough sorrow of her own, she didn't need mine on top of it, and I was fine.

"No," I said, dismayed to hear my voice crack.

She came to me and drew me into her arms, pressing my head to her shoulder. That was all it took; I wrapped my arms around her and cried. It felt good to be held, better to trust someone enough to let myself be so vulnerable.

"Thank you," I said once I'd calmed.

"Of course. I was going to get some warm milk before bed, would you…?"

I hadn't had warm milk in ages. "I'd like that."

Once we sat down with our drinks, Kate eyed me for a moment. "A goat, Methos?" she finally asked.

I laughed. "That was Byron, not me. I prefer my conquests have no more than two legs."

We didn't say much after that but I didn't mind. I enjoyed being with her, even if we had nothing to say, and the silence was somehow comforting.

"Good night, Methos," she said once we'd finished.

"Good night, Kate. And, thank you."

"For?"

"For trying, for comforting me. For knowing when it's all right to be quiet."

She smiled. "You're welcome."

We lay down, but it was a long while before I fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

The next month passed quickly. Kate did better as time went on, becoming more comfortable and open, even going so far as to take French classes. She did have her bad days, of course, when it just got to be too much, and I'd let her cry for a while before working to draw her out of the depression. It wasn't always easy—she was stubborn and didn't always _want_ to feel better—but as time went on she didn't resist as hard.

And, as time went on, I got more and more wrapped up. I told myself firmly that I wasn't falling for her, but I didn't believe it for a minute.

It was, by our time, her birthday nearly a month after she arrived. Kate had made me promise not to throw her a party, but I wasn't going to let it go by without recognizing it. So, MacLeod invited us; his student, Richie and Joe for lunch, where there would just happen to be presents.

I was standing behind the kitchen counter, drinking my beer and watching Kate and MacLeod play chess. They were, as usual, sniping at each other; after a few days of what had seemed to be intense dislike, they'd settled into a more friendly form of antagonism. I rather thought that they would eventually come to be friends, but I didn't see the bickering ending any time soon.

Joe dug into the fridge for a beer of his own then turned, chuckling and shaking his head. "Looks like Katie's settling in."

"She's doing better, yeah. It's still bad at night, when there's nothing to remind her that she's sleeping alone for the first time in eighteen years…"

"Eighteen? Is she really old enough?"

"Barely. She was eighteen when they got married."

He shook his head. "That's a hell of a thing." He glanced at me. "You tell her you love her, yet?"

"I'm trying not to think about it, thanks."

"Yeah? How's that working for you?"

"Terribly," I admitted. "I can ignore it for a while, but then there's something… A touch, a look, a fond smile that seems to go beyond fondness and I'm hopeful and lost all over again."

"Ain't love grand?" he chuckled. "What'd you get her?"

"Today I'm giving her first edition copies of The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings that Roland autographed for me."

"Who's Roland?"

"Tolkien. We taught together at Oxford."

He eyed me for a minute, trying to decide whether or not to believe me. "Not bad," he finally said. "What do you mean today?"

I glanced up to make sure Kate wasn't looking and pulled out the other gift I'd gotten. "I saw this and couldn't pass it up."

The ring was platinum with diamonds and blue sapphires. Joe whistled softly as he handed it back to me.

"Beautiful. Think you'll ever give it to her?"

"I hope so."

"Damn," Kate muttered. "You going to come over and help me, or what?"

I grinned and joined them at the table. "I thought you were winning."

She snorted. "Are you kidding? He's kicking my ass."

I looked over the board. "Well, I see only one way to salvage this game."

MacLeod looked up, confused. "What's that?"

I tipped her king over. "Start from the beginning."

"Oh, no," Kate laughed. "I'm no glutton for punishment."

"Move over, then. I'll at least give him a run for his money," I said, settling on the sofa next to Kate. Not that it would help my concentration, any. "White or black, MacLeod?"

"White," he said, setting the pieces back up.

"So, when are you going to tell her, Methos?"

I glared at Joe—how dare he?—until I realized what he was talking about. "I had been planning on waiting until the brat gets here."

"To tell me what?" Kate asked dangerously.

"That this is a birthday party," MacLeod said helpfully. "Your move."

I advanced a pawn. "It's not," I protested. "It's just a gathering of friends to celebrate…"

"Sounds like a party to me," Joe laughed.

"A party would have cake…"

"Richie's bringing it."

"And ice cream…"

"In the freezer," Joe and MacLeod said in unison.

"And hats and balloons and noisemakers," I said viciously.

"We could go get some," MacLeod grinned.

"Why is it that the two oldest are the most childish?" Kate asked, standing.

I got to my feet and took her arm. "Are you mad?"

She tried to glare at me but couldn't hold it. "No, damn you," she growled, giving me a hug. "Thank you for caring."

"Always."

She let me hold her for a moment then drew back and poked me in the ribs. "What really fries me is that I can't get you back."

I grinned. "One of the advantages of not remembering your birthday."

"We've had this problem before," Joe chuckled. "We should make you pick a day."

"I like that idea. Pick a day, Old Man."

I answered without thinking. "April 18th."

Kate's smile faltered, faded, disappeared altogether. "I, uh, I need some fresh air," she said, going outside.

I sank back onto the couch. "Oh, good job, Old Man. Well done, indeed."

"What's wrong with that?" Joe asked.

"That's the day she came here."

"I couldn't have been more obvious if I'd tried. She's going to hate me."

"She's feeling guilty," MacLeod said gently. "Haven't you seen the way she looks at you? She's falling—or fallen—and she thinks it's too soon."

"I'm not sure if that makes it better or worse."

MacLeod and I tensed with the arrival of another Immortal. A moment later, Richie came in and put down a cake and present.

"I don't want to know," he sighed. "We'll be back in a minute."

"He'll have her feeling better in no time."

Of course he would. Kate hadn't expected to like him, having found him annoying as a character, but she needed to play mother to someone and he was more than happy to let her. He grumbled about it, but none of us took him seriously.

"He shouldn't have to," I sighed.

I had finished my beer and was getting another when they came back in, Kate with a smile for me.

"We'll talk later."

I nodded. "Okay. So? Open your presents, already."

She heaved a theatrical sigh. "Since it seems I have no choice…"

She had a good time in spite of herself and appreciated her gifts. Richie gave her a CD collection of her favorite group's albums, while Joe gave her one he called, "the essential Blues collection." MacLeod, much to her delight, had found a pair of jade Foo Dogs for luck.

At the end of the day, we never did get, or take, the chance to talk. I was, however, rewarded with a lingering kiss on the cheek and a sleepless night thinking about what might be. Somehow it didn't seem to change the state of our relationship; over the next few days we settled back into the holding pattern we'd maintained so far.

So here I was, with an open book on my lap and a pen in hand, accomplishing absolutely nothing, unable to organize my thoughts enough to make a journal entry. Kate had, earlier in the day, taken what she considered the last step in adjusting and that was the only thing I wound up writing. "Today, Kate took off her wedding ring."

I may have written more, but the phone rang and I grabbed it quickly, before it could wake Kate. "Hello."

"Adam, I think we have trouble."

I frowned; Joe's voice was tight and uneasy. "What's wrong?"

"MacLeod… I was sending my brother-in-law's body back to the States—his daughter moved back and wants him closer—and MacLeod shows up, ranting about having seen James last night, and opens the damn coffin."

It took me a long while to take that in. "That's not good," I finally said.

"Oh, it gets worse. So I get him out of jail and even though he saw James' body, he _still_ doesn't think he's dead. Told Richie so, right in front of me, as if… As if I would…"

"Do you want me to talk to him?"

"Would you?" he asked, sounding relieved. "He's not going to listen to me. Hell, I'm not sure he'll listen to Richie. I'm worried, Methos; I haven't seen him like this before. Not even during the Dark Quickening."

"No, then he was only evil, not insane," I said dryly. "I'll give you a call tomorrow, let you know what I find out."

"Thanks, buddy. I really appreciate it."

"Hey, he's my friend, too."

I dressed then knelt by the bed and ran a hand along Kate's cheek. "Kate? Honey?"

She shifted and opened her eyes, just enough to see. "Hmm? Methos? What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I soothed. "I just need to talk to MacLeod and I didn't want you to wake up with me gone."

Her eyes drifted shut again. "Kay. Sure it's alright?"

"Yeah, everything's fine," I told her, feeling a pang of guilt about lying to her. "Go back to sleep."

She nodded sleepily and settled back down. "Night," she mumbled.

"Good night." I waited until I was sure she was asleep then left for the barge.

When I got there I was hit with the sense of Immortal Presence. A moment later, MacLeod emerged quickly from the thick fog, leading with his sword.

I jumped back and held up my hands. "It's just me. Joe called me."

He didn't seem to take much notice, peering into the gloom. "Did you see him?"

"Who?" I asked, expecting to have to tell him that I didn't know what James Horton looked like.

"Kronos."

I laughed harshly. "Really."

MacLeod looked at me sharply and mylaughter died as I realized that he was serious; he had either seen Kronos or thought he had. He turned on one heel and strode off into the fog.

"MacLeod? Where are you going? MacLeod?"

He didn't answer and I shook myself out of my shock to follow, but he had disappeared into the mist and I couldn't find him. After only a minute even his Presence faded and I was forced to return to my apartment empty-handed.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Just a quick warning before the last chapter; there is an attempted suicide, while it happens off-stage, so to say, it is there.

* * *

The next morning I woke on my own; Kate often made breakfast, but she'd left a note saying that she'd been running late for class. I grabbed a shower and a piece of toast and some juice before calling Joe. He'd heard from Richie, who wanted to meet with us, so I swung by to pick Joe up then met with the kid.

Richie had hardly greeted us when he started his story. "We were coming back to the barge late last night when this old guy came up to us, asking… He knew Mac's name. He said something about, 'he's coming,' and, 'the time is at hand.' That's when Mac said he saw Horton; we went to look forhim… There was no one there, but the old guy was dead. Killed, strangled. The next day, well, you know what happened at the airport. Thing is, before we left the station, Mac checked with the morgue. They said Landry, the old guy, had died of natural causes. Mac visited Landry's granddaughter and got his journals… There's stuff in it about demons and a champion… Landry thought that Mac was the one to fight this thing, Ahriman. I don't know, maybe…"

The story was bad enough, but the fact that the kid was starting to buy it… "Millennium theory is nothing new, but I've seen good years, I've seen bad years and it doesn't have much to do with the calendar."

"But you should see this guy's journal. It's pretty convincing stuff."

I shook my head. "Of course it is. You can prove anything if you look hard enough and skew the numbers just the right way. Most religions have some version of the savior myth; Demons come to destroy the earth and Champions are sent to protect it. It's a comforting thought, but Richie, I've lived five thousand years and, I've never seen a demon."

"A Zoroastrian demon," Joe said, disbelieving.

"Maybe you've got another explanation for what's going on?"

"What's going on is that Duncan MacLeod is losing it," Joe snapped.

Richie looked to me, pleading, and I relented. "Let's go talk to the granddaughter," I sighed.

Richie smiled grimly. "Where do you think I'm taking you?"

We weren't far from the girl's apartment when we saw the smoke and it didn't take long at all to realize where it was coming from. The street outside the building was filled with police, bystanders, fire trucks, but the hoses were being retracted and things were being cleaned up. Whatever had happened, it was over.

Cops were interviewing bystanders and one of them, seeing us, made his way over. "Do you live in the area?"

"No, we saw the smoke," I told him. "What happened?"

"Arson. We're looking for a man who was seen leaving here late last night. Tall, dark hair, ponytail."

Not good, not good. I looked away, letting Joe answer.

"No one we know. Sorry."

"Not a chance, Joe," Richie said firmly once the cop had moved away.

"Look, Richie, I know how you feel."

"Yeah, right. Mac was not involved and you know it."

They started off and I followed, pausing at the bottom of a ladder as a body was lowered down.

"Who was that?"

"Allison Landry."

I sighed and shook my head. "Poor, poor Allison."

None of us said much of anything as we wandered, finally stopping at a café for lunch. We ate in silence as well, each of us deep in our own head. I knew what it was like, to fall into madness, but I never expected it to happen to MacLeod. Not like this.

"So, you agree with him?" Richie finally asked me once our dishes had been cleared. "You think Mac's crazy?"

"I think he's hallucinating, Richie. He's seeing people he's killed and who knows what else he's doing."

"He did not set that fire. What if all this stuff is real?"

"So, there are demons running around? Dead people walking?"

"You're walking. How many times have you been killed?"

I shook my head. "That's not the same, and you know it."

" No, no, no, no, I don't know it. Nobody knows the reason why immortals exist. Maybe this is it. Maybe we're here so that one of can fight this thing."

Joe shook his head. "Yeah, and this has been going on for thousands of years, but no one has ever heard of it, not Watchers, not Immortals…"

"Basically, yes."

Joe and I exchanged a look. Richie threw up his hands, disgusted.

"Aw, forget it. I'll see you guys," he said sharply, leaving.

I sighed. "Blind loyalty, very common in the young."

"Yeah, I guess that's why we feel like rats," Joe grumbled. Then, brightening, "Hey, what about Katie? Maybe she knows something. Though, why she wouldn't have said anything…"

"She may not have known it was time—from what she told me, dates were few and far between—and I told her not to worry about what had happened. She had enough to deal with as it was." Now, I was starting to wonder if that had been a big mistake.

He dug out his cell phone. "So? Call her, already."

"She may not be home. Sometimes she goes out to lunch after class."

"Class, huh? What's she taking?"

"French. She originally wanted me to teach her, but I thought classes would be better. Give her a chance to meet some normal people."

Joe chuckled. "Probably not a bad idea."

He waited impatiently as I dialed and let the phone ring. It went for so long that I was about to hang up when it was answered, after a fashion. The ringing ended and I could hear something, but I couldn't tell what it was.

"Kate? Kate, are you there?"

"Methos…"

That was all, a weak cry that scared the hell out of me. "Kate? Kate!" I disconnected and called emergency, giving them the address and telling them to break down the damn door if they had to. Then I tossed the phone and a, "Kate's in trouble," at Joe and rushed out.

She was just being taken out when I got there, one bandaged wrist seeping blood. I pushed past the medics and took her other hand, but she didn't respond.

"Kate?"

"She is unconscious, M'sieur, she has lost a great deal of blood. You are…?"

"Roommate. Friend. What happened?"

He hesitated briefly. "It would appear to be a suicide attempt."

My blood ran cold. "Where are you taking her?"

"The American Hospital is closest."

I let them take her and made my way to the hospital. Once there I called both Maurice's club and Joe's hotel and left messages telling him where I was. Then, I sat down to wait. Suddenly whether MacLeod was crazy or the end of the world was at hand didn't seem so important.

It felt like days before the doctor came out, but it was probably only a matter of minutes. "M'sieur? M'mselle Brown is resting. We have begun transfusions to replace the blood she has lost. Physically, she will be fine."

"Thank God. What happened?"

"A razor blade was found near by…"

I shook my head. "No. Doctor, I know her, she wouldn't do something like that."

He looked at me sympathetically. "There are hesitation marks, which tells us that this was a cry for help less than a true attempt. We will keep her in psychiatric care over night, at the very least."

I didn't want to leave her here, but what choice did I have? "As long as you need. Can I see her?"

"She is still unconscious. We will take her to a room; once she is there you may see her. She will likely be weak and not able to say much, however."

"I just want to be with her."

He smiled. "With a friend like you, M'sieur, she will recover."

I had barely sat back down when Joe came in. "Damn it, Old Man, what's going on?"

"They think Kate tried to kill herself."

"Are you sure she didn't?" he asked gently.

"Yes," I said firmly. But, was I? "Maybe," I sighed. "She took her wedding ring off, yesterday, and she left before I woke up, so I don't really know what her state of mind was this morning. Have you talked to MacLeod?"

"No. When I called the hotel and heard your message, I came right over. I'll wait with you. Mac's got Richie to help keep him sane."

I nodded. "Thanks, Joe."

It was another hour before Kate was taken to a room and even longer, nearly night, when she woke up. Her hand tightened on mine then she moaned slightly.

"Adam?"

"I'm right here," I told her, scooting closer and brushing the hair off her forehead. "Are you okay?"

"Allison? Is she…?"

"Dead," Joe said gruffly. "Fire."

Kate smiled weakly. "Hey."

"Don't try to talk, just rest," I told her gently.

"Ahriman tried to keep me from telling what I know. He's going to lure Richie to the old racetrack… When Mac goes after he'll be tricked into taking Richie's head… Tonight…"

I felt the blood drain from my face. "Joe…"

"I know," he said, standing. "I'll get to Mac, keep him from…"

"I'll go with. A taxi's going to take you too long. Kate…"

"Go. Tell Mac… Can't sense Ahriman."

"I'll remember." I wanted so much to ask, but we didn't have the time. "Oh, hey, I brought this for you. He'll have to do until I get back." I pulled the Otter Thomas out of a pocket and gave it to her, pressed my lips to her forehead, promised I'd be back as soon as I could and followed Joe out.

MacLeod was alone when we got to the barge. The door was, of course, unlocked so we let ourselves in, finding him in the middle of the floor as if we'd interrupted something.

"Where are the men in the white coats?"

I took a deep breath. "I'm not so sure we weren't wrong," I told him. "We've been talking to Katie…"

"Of course! Why didn't I think…? Did she tell you how to stop him?"

"We, uh, we didn't get that far. She did say to tell you…"

That's when the phone rang. MacLeod grabbed it. "Hello?" He listened for a minute then looked at Joe. "That's impossible."

I quietly pulled a dagger into my hand, just in case.

"No, Richie, do nothing, _nothing_," MacLeod said firmly. "Get back here. Richie! You don't know what you're facing." He handed the phone to Joe. "Keep him on the line; he's got them at the old racetrack."

While Joe tried to talk to Richie, I stepped forward and put a hand on MacLeod's shoulder. "Mac, you need to slow down, hear what…"

"Sorry, but I'm the one who has to fight this thing."

I hadn't been expecting him to clock me with a heavy paperweight from the table. I went down like a ton of bricks, out before I hit the ground.

When I came to I tried to sit up, groaning with the pain. Immortal healing or not, I was going to have one hell of a headache.

"How long have I been out?"

"Couple of minutes," Joe told me. "Richie was already gone when I got the phone. We've got to go after them."

"And pray we're in time," I said, letting Joe help me to my feet. "Damn stubborn Boy Scout."

It took far too long to get to the race track. Finally, though, Joe and I were making our way into the building, saying nothing in order to catch any sound that might tell us where they were. There was a gunshot, but it was hard to pinpoint where it had come from given the echoes. I thought down, so we made our way along the first stairwell we found, going carefully in the dark.

We were just stepping into the hall when we heard it. It was distorted from bouncing off walls but there was no mistaking it; the sound of a Quickening. I fell back against the wall and closed my eyes against a swell of tears, defeated. Too late. In spite of it all, we'd been too late.

Once it had quieted, Joe gripped my shoulder. I straightened and gave him a nod then we made our way along, trying to find MacLeod. Hoping against hope that it hadn't been Richie, that, somehow, there had been another Immortal…

I felt the buzz and we turned a corner and found him, on his knees, rocking over Richie's body. There were no tears, not yet, at least. He was still in shock; the sorrow would come later.

MacLeod didn't look up as we came up behind him, just took his sword and offered it, and his neck, up to me. It took me a minute to truly comprehend what he wanted and I felt sick. I gave him the same judgment he'd once given me and turned away.

"Take it, please."

"Absolutely not," I said, moving away before I could take the sword and give him what he didn't really want.

I heard him drop the sword then he pushed past me. I almost went after him, but a strangled sob from behind me made me turn and take Joe in my arms, offering him my strength and accepting his in return.

I wanted nothing more than to go back to the hospital, hold Kate and reassure myself that she was all right, but we had to see Richie to as proper an end as we could. It took all night but it didn't matter, neither Joe nor I would have slept, anyway. When we were done he sent me off to the hospital to see to Kate, while he took a taxi… Somewhere. I didn't even think to ask where he'd be.

When I stepped into her room, Kate took one look at me and knew. "I'm sorry," I told her, sitting in the chair and taking her hand. "I let you down."

She pulled me into a fierce hug. "Don't think that, Methos. Don't ever think that." She took a deep, steadying breath. "I didn't think it would hurt so much. I never liked him much as a character…"

"I know. I know." I shook my head, close to tears, myself. "I just... How is it that I didn't know? How is it that in five thousand years I've never seen..."

"Oh, Methos," she sighed, voice wavering. "Maybe you have. After all, you've forgotten more years than most Immortals live."

She had a point. "That isn't comforting in the least."

Kate laughed harshly. "The truth rarely is."

Yes and, speaking of the truth... Again I wanted to ask, but it wasn't the time. I stayed with her until they kicked me out so she could talk to a psychiatrist, making me think that it might not be a bad thing to have her here.

That, however, left me at loose ends. I decided to stop by the barge; I needed to see MacLeod, see if there was anything I could do. As if I'd done anything for him, at all. I should have… I ruthlessly cut off that line of thinking as self-destructive. I'd done my best. Sometimes it was enough, this time it wasn't, but I was going to accept neither guilt nor blame.

Maybe someday I'd come to believe that.

There was no buzz when I got to the barge and the only person I saw was Joe as he emerged from below. He smiled sadly and shook his head when he saw me.

"He's gone."

"I don't blame him; Paris hasn't been friendly to him the past few years. Do you know where he went?"

"No. I just sent my guys to watch the airport, but I'm willing to bet he's already left. I'm heading back to Seacouver in a couple of days, though. I'll look for him when I get there."

"Let me know. Do you need a ride?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Once I'd pulled into the hotel's parking lot, we sat for a long moment in silence until he heaved a sigh.

"Damn it," he sighed. "I can't help but be a little grateful. It's nice to know Mac isn't crazy."

"And that, at the very least, Kate was pushed into it. I know how you feel."

"You gonna be okay?"

I ran a hand over my face. "I have to be. I've got someone to take care of."

"Yeah. Give me a call when you know more about what happened to her, huh?"

I nodded. "Promise. Take care, Joe."

"You, too."

I watched him go. He moved a bit more slowly and leaned on his cane a bit more heavily, but he looked like he'd survive.

I went back to the apartment to clean up. There was so much blood—too much—and it took longer than I would have liked. I started thinking, trying to keep my mind off what had happened here, and decided that MacLeod may have had a good idea. Paris hadn't been very kind to me, either. Darius, killed by people I'd trusted. Don and Christine, killed by an Immortal looking for me. I'd come here most recently from Bordeaux, where I'd killed a man I'd once called brother and I had lost Byron here. Alexa was buried here. Now, this. Maybe it was time to leave for a while. Kate loved to travel and there was so much I wanted to show her…

I stopped to grab a bite to eat on my way back to the hospital. Once again, she knew what was going on the minute she saw me.

"MacLeod's gone, isn't he?" she asked, turning away.

"Yeah." I sat and took her hand, but she just let it lay limply in my own. "Kate?"

"You're going, too."

I still didn't understand what was wrong until I realized what she must be afraid of. I took her chin and turned her face towards me then took it in my hands.

"Not without you," I said firmly. "I'm not going to leave you, Kate."

She nodded, relief flooding her eyes. "I was afraid…"

"Don't be." Now or never, I thought. "Kate, I have to ask… I need to know…"

She nodded. "He tried to tempt me into saying nothing, but he didn't have anything I wanted. Well, he offered to send me home. That might have done it, if I'd thought for a minute that he actually could. It's partly my fault; I got cocky and let my guard down. He knew just what to say and just how to say it… I did do it, Methos. I was pushed into it, he knew all my weak points, but I did do it."

"Oh, Kate, I'm so sorry. I should have been there, I should…"

"Don't, please don't. Just be here for me now."

I drew her into a hug. "Promise. Joe's going back to Seacouver, MacLeod's gone… Do we have any reason to stay here?"

"They want to keep me for a few more days…"

"Let them. I've never been a psychologist and you need the help. And, that'll give me some time to make arrangements. You don't mind traveling for a while, do you?"

She smiled and I saw an echo of the real Kate. "Not at all. Especially not with you."

"I'm going to take the liberty of choosing the starting point, but then we'll go where you want. No itinerary, no schedules. We'll stay until we're ready to go."

Over the next few days I split my time between making flight and hotel arrangements, putting things into storage and closing up the apartment and spending time with Kate in the hospital. They were pleased with her progress, though it helped that she'd been in a good place before the incident and _wanted_ to get better, and she was able to leave after a few days.

"There's just one stop I need to make," I told her on the way to the airport. I had tried to get there before Kate had been released, but I just hadn't been able to find the time.

"Montparnasse?" she asked gently.

"You don't mind?"

She looked shocked. "Why on earth would I? I know how I'd feel if I had a grave to visit."

I smiled and took her hand. "I should have known you'd understand. Thank you."

She came with me to Alexa's grave, helped me clear off the few weeds that the groundskeepers had missed. I talked to Alexa, told her that I was leaving and why. Kate said not a word, just let me go. Once I was done, she ran a hand along the head stone then followed me back to the car.

"I would have liked to meet her."

I considered that. "You either would have hated each other or been the best of friends. Frankly, I'm not sure which prospect frightens me more."

She laughed, the first time I'd heard her do so since Ahriman. "Well, we do have our caring for you in common. You wouldn't believe how many women bond over men. Of course, it's usually over a mutual ex…"

"Oh, let's not go there." We got in the car and I glanced at her. "Okay?"

She paused then nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I think I am."

"Then it's time to go."

"You still haven't told me where."

I grinned. "Wait and see."

The look on her face when our connecting flight to Buffalo, NY was announced went a long way towards making me feel better.


End file.
